Avoidance (McHanzo)

1

As Heir to the Shimada gang, Hanzo was never allowed to be a child. From early on, the only thing drilled into his head was the necessity to be strong and reserved, almost like a robot. Whenever a tear was shed, a punishment was delivered. From the very beginning he was doomed to be punished for merely being human, causing him to become terrified of his own feelings. Soon enough, he became numb, unable to feel any compassion or regret. The only feeling that remained was resentment towards his father, and his mother who stood by the side as it continued.

In some respects, he envied Genji. He got away with everything being the youngest, though it never gave him anything more than a lack of consideration for what his actions might do. There were no boundaries, Hanzo himself felt responsible for his lax personality and blatant disregard for rules and etiquette that was a necessity for the older Shimada. His fathers constant defence of the younger boy, and blatant disregard for the strict regulations that applied to him were enough to drive him over the edge.

"Feelings are not an option! When I am dead and gone, you will be thanking me!"

Yelled his father, hair sticking to his tear stained face as he backed himself into a corner. Helplessness and fear coursed through his veins as if there were nothing else for him in this world, and he felt as though at any moment he could be killed with nothing to show for it.

"Only the weak cry, only the weak dare to show any kind of fear! Are you a suitable heir, or are you a disgrace to the Shimada name!"

"I am a man." Hanzo whispered, his throat burning from the screams that had echoed through the hallways only minutes before. "I am not a disgrace."

"Then act like it. Prove to me you are not weak. Prove you are fit to succeed me, or else you will not live to see the day of my death."

As a fist hurled towards him, he suppressed a scream of horror. Again and again the fist returned, hitting his body as if it were nothing more than a punching bag. Backing further into the corner, he glanced up at the man he had for so long idolised as if he were a god, an ethereal being, a man so powerful he could destroy all who stood before him with merely a swipe of his katana. At that moment, the powerful Shimada heir gave in to his father and allowed it to continue. After all, he deserved it for being such a weak and useless son. He was as useless as a daughter, if not more so, showing emotions as if he were merely a civilian.

The "training" continued for many years, until eventually he became almost robotic at the tender age of fifteen. It had been drilled into his mind that his only use was to lead the gang forth when his father was either assassinated or reached the end of his life - however even after the years of abuse Hanzo somewhat hoped he would reach the end instead of a gruesome assassination purely for the sake of his sanity though even then he doubted it remained. Of course, as all began to calm down he was informed that he must kill his brother, egged on by his father. He immediately saw what he was doing, using his next-of-kin as if they were toys that only the crazy dared to play with. But somewhere deep down, he knew it was probably for the best. That's how he ended up stood before him with a katana gripped between his nimble fingers.

Shooting up as the light shone through the uncovered window, the cold air nipping at his bare skin, Hanzo felt his chest rising and falling as sweat covered his body. Breathing laboured, he let out a soft sigh and lay back down. He was unsure of what triggered the nightmare, however all he could remember was the blood covering his body before he woke up. The sight was chilling, and though the recall had brought him back to his brother he couldn't forgive himself for what he had done. He had no idea how or why he'd come back, but he had and it seemed as though he wouldn't be leaving any time soon. The lifestyle left him craving more, the violence on the field almost like a drug to him.